


family matters

by loveleee



Series: growing pains [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: A little bit of angst, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Mild Smut, Weddings, elopement, jughead is a slightly-less-flustered pseudo-dad, non-murdery au, schoolnurse!betty, secret spies???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:49:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29063121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveleee/pseuds/loveleee
Summary: “Betty.” He takes her hand again – the left one, gently – and fiddles with the ring he’d given her last spring. “I want to get married. I would marry you tomorrow at City Hall in a heartbeat.”She stares down at him for one long beat, then nods. “Okay. Let’s do that.”Jughead freezes. The small, round-cut gem on her finger digs into his thumb. “What?”“Let’s do it.” Betty shrugs. “Let’s go to City Hall tomorrow and get married like we wanted to. Just you, me, and Jellybean.”(AU. The sequel to "step by step".)
Relationships: Betty Cooper & Jellybean Jones, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Jellybean Jones & Jughead Jones
Series: growing pains [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2132268
Comments: 25
Kudos: 124





	family matters

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to stirringsofconsciousness for helpful feedback, and sullypants for nudging me over the finish line <3

**four months out**

Betty sighs, collapsing into the seat beside Jughead at the kitchen table, where he’s working on an article for  _ The Pacific. _

“That was my mom,” she tells him, unnecessarily, as she only makes that particular sigh when it’s got something to do with Alice Cooper.

“What’s up?” Jughead clicks over to another tab, only half-listening. With the wedding four months away, calls from Betty’s mother were now a twice-daily occurrence, though they rarely yielded any information of interest.

“Well, first she asked me if I didn’t think it might be more ‘appropriate’ for Jellybean to be the flower girl instead of a bridesmaid.”

Jughead pauses, fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Jellybean would  _ hate  _ that.”

“Oh, I know. It’s not happening. Then she said she thinks we need to do another walk-through at the venue this weekend.”

“ _ Why? _ ”

“Something about the height of the flower arrangements?” Betty bites her lip. “I might have said we were free on Saturday.”

Jughead groans. “Betty.”

“I have to choose my battles. The Jellybean thing is more important.”

So it had been, ever since Betty had called her parents up one year ago to tell them she and Jughead were engaged: battle after battle after battle. 

The biggest, of course, had been over whether there would be a wedding at all. Betty and Jughead had resisted for weeks – even past the point of Hal offering to pay for the entire thing, no questions asked – until Alice had burst into tears in the middle of her own birthday dinner at an upscale French restaurant in Centreville.

Even then, Jughead had not been fully convinced. “She’s manipulating us,” he’d complained on the drive home, thankful that Jellybean had her headphones on in the back seat.

“Yeah, I know,” Betty conceded. “But is a free wedding  _ really _ the worst thing in the world?”

Right here, right now, Jughead’s answer would be a solid  _ yes _ . He runs one hand down his face. “Jellybean’s going to throw a fit when she finds out we’re dragging her back there for another walk-through.”

“Jellybean’s going to throw a fit, or  _ you’re  _ going to throw a fit?”

He shuts his laptop. Clearly this is going to be a longer conversation than he’d thought.

“I didn’t want to do this in the first place, so excuse me if I’m not thrilled it’s turning into a full-time job.”

Betty draws her head back, almost as though he’s slapped her. “I’m sorry, have you been fielding daily phone calls from my mother all this time? I must have missed that.”

“You don’t  _ have _ to answer every single one.”

Betty stands up to leave, and he immediately feels terrible. He grabs her hand as she passes him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Jughead tugs her closer; Betty snatches her hand away and crosses her arms over her chest, leveling him with a glare that reminds him of, well, her mother. 

Wisely, he pushes that thought aside. “I know you’re doing ninety-nine point nine percent of the work. I know. I’m just on deadline right now, and I’m stressed, and seeing  _ you _ stressed makes me  _ more  _ stressed, and I hate that you’re doing all this for a wedding neither of us even wanted.”

“Then let’s call it off.” She shrugs. “We don’t even have to get married.”

“Betty.” He takes her hand again – the left one, gently – and fiddles with the ring he’d given her last spring. “I  _ want  _ to get married. I would marry you tomorrow at City Hall in a heartbeat.”

She stares down at him for one long beat, then nods. “Okay. Let’s do that.”

Jughead freezes. The small, round-cut gem on her finger digs into his thumb. “What?”

“Let’s do it.” Betty shrugs. “Let’s go to City Hall tomorrow and get married like we wanted to. Just you, me, and Jellybean.”

He swallows. “I was kidding, Betts. Your parents already put a down payment on the venue, and I’m pretty sure the catering fee is nonrefundable –”

Ignoring his protests, she winds her arms around his neck, straddling his lap. Betty has a remarkably steady temperament – one of the qualities that makes her good with kids – but every now and then she catches him off-guard with a shift in moods that leaves him nearly dizzy.

“We’ll still have the wedding,” she tells him. “But we’ll get married first. It’ll take the pressure off.”

“But…people go to a wedding because they want to  _ see  _ the bride and groom get married.” Or so he assumes. He’s always been mostly interested in the food. 

“We’re not going to  _ tell _ them we’re already married, dummy.” Betty presses an affectionate kiss to his temple. “Only we’ll know. And Jelly.”

“If Jelly knows, there’s a fifty-fifty shot the whole world will know before the week is out.”

“Okay, whatever, maybe everyone will know,” she laughs. “They won’t care. It’s still a free party.”

“Your family will care,” he grumbles. “Your mom will murder me.” A terrifying thought occurs to him. “They’re gonna think I got you pregnant.”

“I don’t care what they think.” Betty’s hand strokes lightly at the back of his neck, up and down, tugging gently at the fine hairs there. “You’re my family. And I’m ready to marry you right now, if you’re ready to marry me.”

With this woman in his lap, his heart in her hands, he thinks he’s been ready since the moment she wrapped a Hello Kitty band aid around his finger.

One week later, Jughead and Betty get married. (Because, as Jughead learns when he calls the courthouse, you can’t just show up and have a wedding. You have to make an appointment.)

Jellybean is surprisingly enthusiastic about the whole endeavor; mostly he thinks she enjoys being in on another secret. Either way, he’s not going to question it.

“Are you going to be Mrs. Jones at school now?” she asks, shoving a handful of fries into her mouth. It hadn’t felt right to go anywhere but Pop’s for lunch after the brief ceremony downtown.

Betty exchanges a look with Jughead before shaking her head. “Well, it’s a secret until we have the wedding, remember? But even then, I’m keeping my name. I’ll just be  _ Ms.  _ Cooper, instead of Miss.”

“You can do that?”

Betty looks amused. “Yes, you can do that.”

“But why?”

“Because I like my name, and I’ve had it for thirty years, and I don’t see any reason to change it now.”

“It’s Betty’s choice,” Jughead adds, slightly embarrassed that his nine-year-old sister has apparently been harboring some reactionary politics all this time, despite his best attempts to the contrary.

“But you’re married, and you have different names.” Jellybean looks thoughtful as she chews on another fry. “That’s weird.”

“Well, Jughead could always change  _ his  _ name.” Betty gives him a sly smile.

“No,” Jellybean says firmly. “Then  _ we’d  _ have different names.”

“Don’t worry, I am a Jones for life.” Jughead nudges her with his elbow. “And you can be too, if that’s what you want. Even if you get married.”

Jellybean wrinkles her nose. “Ew. I’m never getting married.”

He smiles. “That’s fine too.”

Later that night, lying in bed, Jughead plays with the solid gold band around Betty’s finger. Since they were keeping the marriage secret for a few months, they’d agreed to take them off in the morning, but for now it sends a little thrill through him every time he catches a glimpse of one of their rings.

She’s his  _ wife _ .

“You know what’s funny? I never thought I’d marry someone without living in sin first,” Betty says. Her lease wasn’t up until the month before the wedding; they hoped that by then they’d find a slightly bigger place for the three of them to share, but if not, she’d be putting her things in storage and moving into the apartment for real. “It’s very old-fashioned of us.”

“I never thought I’d get married at all.”

Betty looks at him in surprise. “Never?”

“I didn’t want to. Hearing Jellybean say that today was like a flashback to my childhood.”

“How come?”

“I think I just couldn’t picture it.” He skims his fingers down her arm, marveling a little at the way her skin prickles with goosebumps under his touch. He’d certainly never pictured  _ this _ . “It’s not like my parents gave me a great reference point.”

FP and Gladys had separated before he’d even entered kindergarten. From his earliest memories to the day she’d finally moved back to Ohio, his parents’ relationship had been a maelstrom of hurt, disappointment, and little else.

He’d had glimpses of healthy marriages through the years – mostly from Archie’s mom and dad. But visiting the Andrews’ house was like visiting another world. Imagining himself as an adult, living a life like theirs, was like imagining himself at the bottom of the ocean, or exploring Mars: intriguing, maybe even fun, but not at all realistic.

“I’m glad you changed your mind.” Her smile holds a touch of sadness as she brushes a lock of hair away from his forehead. “I wish I’d known you as a kid. It’s crazy we were both here growing up in Riverdale the whole time and never even met.”

Jughead laughs. “I’m thrilled you never met me. I was a pretentious little asshole.”

Betty leans forward to peck him on the lips. “Stop saying mean things about my husband.”

He snakes an arm around her bare waist, pulling her closer. “Make me.”

To his delight, she does.

**three months out**

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Veronica Lodge is the first one to figure it out.

Jughead had only met her once, during a whirlwind trip to New York City that they’d taken last spring, shortly after announcing their engagement. He’d been hesitant to leave Jellybean for one night, let alone two, but Betty had managed to convince him that she’d survive a brief stay at the Cooper homestead unscathed.

“My mom’s nonsense isn’t going to undo years of good parenting in one weekend,” she’d told him. “Give yourself some credit.”

Whereas Betty had described her own family so thoroughly that he’d felt as if he knew them before  _ actually  _ meeting them, he’s not sure anything could have prepared him for Veronica. She was Betty’s best friend from college, their friendship a fortuitous result of whatever algorithm had placed them together as roommates their freshman year.

“She’s amazing,” Betty had assured him. “She’s very…well, you’ll see.”

The first word he’d found to describe her was  _ rich _ . When Betty had informed him they’d be sleeping in Veronica’s apartment for the weekend, he’d protested at first, knowing how cramped Archie’s fourth-floor walkup in Hell’s Kitchen was.

“I know I’m usually the last person who’d say this, but can’t we just get a ShareBnB? It’s our first trip together, and I bet we could find one of those last-minute deals –”

“Oh, Juggie.” Betty had pressed a single finger to his lips. “Just you wait and see.”

Sure enough, Jughead had missed the memo that Veronica lived in a  _ penthouse  _ apartment. In the middle of Manhattan.

“I had Smithers fix up the bedroom that overlooks 77 th ,” Veronica had informed them breezily, arm in arm with Betty as she led them down the hallway, Jughead trailing behind with their bags. “The view’s not as good, but I thought you lovebirds would appreciate the extra privacy.”

“Thanks, V,” Betty cooed.

The second word was  _ blunt. _

He’d found himself alone with Veronica on their first evening in town, sipping on pre-dinner drinks in the living room while Betty dealt with her mother on the phone. (Even on a weekend getaway, she could not fully extract herself from Alice’s desire to spend hours debating linen versus cotton napkins.)

“So,” he’d said, tapping his fingers against the arm of the most comfortable leather sofa he’d ever had the pleasure of sitting on. “Have you lived here long?”

“Ever since I left my good-for-nothing ex-husband.” Veronica smiled, and took a sip of her rum.

(Another memo he’d somehow missed: she was Veronica Lodge of Lodge Rum, which explained the multi-million-dollar penthouse.)

He hadn’t even known she’d been married. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. I’m over it.” She leaned forward. “Here’s what I want to know, Jughead: what are your intentions with Betty?”

“My  _ intentions _ ?” he repeated, taken aback. “I think I made my intentions pretty clear when I asked her to marry me.”

Veronica studied him for a moment, then sat back in her chair. “A lot of men see Betty, and they see a caretaker. She’s pretty and she’s sweet, and she comforts sick kids all day.” She took another sip of her drink. “They think she’s a professional mom.”

He was pretty sure he knew what she was getting at. If it weren’t so utterly insulting, he might be glad to know his fiancée had someone like Veronica looking out for her.

“I’m not marrying Betty so she’ll mother my kid sister.” Jughead placed his own glass very carefully on her modernist marble slab of a coffee table. “I’m marrying her because I love her. Because she’s the smartest, bravest, kindest person I know. But if that’s really what you think of me, maybe we should just cut this visit short.”

Veronica had smiled broadly, and then laughed. Actually  _ laughed _ . “Jughead, drink your rum.”

The third word wasn’t a word at all, but it was his most important realization that weekend: Veronica was a pretty good friend.

The three of them had embarked on a bar crawl with Archie, who had proceeded to get so drunk that Veronica agreed to put the near-stranger up in one of her other guest bedrooms rather than send him home alone. While Betty and Veronica retreated to change into their pajamas, Jughead had helped him get settled in. (He’d thought of a great joke about the irony of tucking someone into bed even when he had a weekend off from Jellybean, but Archie had fallen asleep before he could tell it.)

Making his way back to their room with a glass of water for Betty, he heard giggles coming from inside, and stopped a few feet from the door.

“I’m so happy for you, B,” Veronica said, her voice carrying out into the hallway. “I can’t believe your Prince Not-So-Charming was there in Riverdale all along.”

“So he passed the test?” He can hear the smile in Betty’s voice, and it makes him smile, too.

“He passed the test.”

“You know I’d marry him even if he didn’t.”

“I do know that. It’s the most important part of the test.”

Jughead and Veronica had parted ways on good terms. Even so, he’d been apprehensive when Betty told him a few weeks after their courthouse wedding that she was coming to Riverdale for business, and planned to stay an extra night. (At the Five Seasons, of course. Unlike Veronica, they didn’t have any unoccupied bedrooms to spare.)

“Betty! Torombolo!” Veronica jumps up from a booth at Pop’s, where they’d agreed to meet up after she was done with her meetings. She gives Betty a hug, and presses air kisses to both of his cheeks. “And you must be Jellybean.”

Jellybean hangs back, uncharacteristically shy, though Jughead supposes she hasn’t encountered many people like Veronica living here in Riverdale all her life. When she climbs into the booth next to him she leans over and whispers, “Why did she call you Tom Bolo?”

“Just a weird joke,” he whispers back.

The chitchat starts off innocuous enough – Veronica asks how Jughead’s freelancing is going, and whether Betty has any crazy stories to share from the nurse’s office, though of course she can’t recount them in front of Jellybean. At Jughead’s prompting, Jellybean tells them about her class trip to the Maple Syrup Museum, which Veronica seems genuinely fascinated by (though Betty assures her it’s not worth tacking on an extra day to her trip). They place their order with their server, and Jughead is strangely satisfied to see that it’s burgers all around.

Then, without missing a beat, Veronica takes a dainty sip of her chocolate milkshake and asks, “So when did you get married?”

Feeling his heart jump into his throat, Jughead forces himself not to react, and definitely not to look at Betty.

“What are you talking about? The wedding’s in three months.” Unnatural, forced laughter escapes Betty’s lips. “We didn’t get  _ married _ .”

Jughead dies a little inside. As much as he loves her, his wife is a terrible liar.

Struggling to suppress a smile, Veronica rests her chin in her hand. “B, you don’t have to lie to me. You’ve got a seriously domestic vibe going on. And Jughead keeps messing with his ring finger like it’s about to fall off.”

Jughead pulls his hands into his lap with a scowl. “Jesus, Veronica. Why aren’t you working for the CIA?”

She winks. “If I was, you wouldn’t know it.”

Betty sighs. “Fine. We did it last month. It was sort of last-minute. You can’t tell anyone, okay?”

“My lips are sealed.” Veronica makes a lock-and-key motion over her mouth. “But at least tell me why you did it? You don’t look pregnant.”

“I’m  _ not  _ pregnant.” Betty rolls her eyes when she sees Jughead’s look of  _ I-told-you-so _ . “We were feeling overwhelmed by the wedding planning. And we wanted something more intimate from the start, so…it just felt right.”

“I’m the only one who got to be there,” Jellybean pipes up, sounding smug. Jughead hides his smile behind a huge bite of his burger.

“I’m jealous,” Veronica deadpans. “But you guys, congratulations! What are we doing to celebrate?”

“Absolutely nothing,” says Jughead.

“We’re gonna have an entire wedding weekend to celebrate,” Betty points out. “And a bachelorette weekend before that.”

“Yeah, but now that doesn’t even count.” Veronica pouts. “You’re no fun.”

Though she normally spends the weekends with Jughead and Jellybean, Betty has a girls’ night in with Veronica at the Five Seasons that evening instead. Sitting beside Jellybean on the couch, battling it out in a furious game of KittyKart, Jughead realizes it’s the first Friday night the two of them have spent one-on-one in a while.

He decides it’s as good a time as any to take her temperature on everything that’s been happening lately. After she crushes him in a two-way race through Meowser’s Castle (he doesn’t even have to let her win – she’s much better at the game than he is), he turns off the tv and settles back against the arm of the sofa.

“How are you feeling about everything these days?”

As always, when Jughead asks her an open-ended, personal question, Jellybean approaches it as though it might be a booby trap. She pops a pretzel nugget into her mouth, crunching it loudly between her teeth before she answers, “Good.”

“I know we kind of put a lot of pressure on you by asking you to keep such a big secret.”

Jellybean swallows her pretzel and grins. “I like keeping secrets from Betty’s mom and dad. It’s fun.”

Even though he one hundred percent agrees, he strongly suspects Betty might take issue with this development in her attitude. “C’mon, Jelly. They’re our family now.”

“Then why are we keeping it a secret from them? Veronica gets to know.”

Jughead mulls over his answer for a moment. At the end of the day, there’s no justification for it that would make sense to a nine-year-old – not without exposing her to a minefield of familial hurt and obligation that would only confuse her more.

“Because it would make them sad. They don’t want to miss out on an important moment.” He shrugs. “Some people have very specific expectations about what a wedding should be like. And if those expectations aren’t met, they get upset.”

“Did my mom and dad have a wedding?”

Somehow, the story of her own parents had been the last place Jughead expected her to take the conversation – an oversight that now seems incredibly myopic. Of course she’d be curious.  _ Fuck. _

He really wishes Betty were here.

“Yup.” Jughead sits up a little straighter, heart beating fast. “They had a wedding.”

“Were you there? What was it like?”

The truth is that it had been depressing. Jughead was twenty, and in the midst of wrapping up his associate’s degree, when he received the invitation – on a week’s notice – to his father’s wedding at the Greendale Fire Hall to a woman Jughead had barely heard about, and never met.

The situation had come into focus a bit more clearly when Jellybean was born five months later. But up until then, Jughead was thoroughly bewildered by the whole thing, from the sparse attendance to the slapdash decorations strung up around the banquet room, whose pink-and-blue color scheme suggested they’d been recycled from a baby shower.

He’d told his own mother about it on the phone a few days later – she’d already moved to Toledo by then – and Gladys had just laughed. “That sounds like FP.”

“It was nice,” he tells her now, praying she doesn’t ask for details. He doesn’t have the stomach to straight-up lie to her. “I don’t remember much about it, though. It was a long time ago.”

“Yeah, like before I was born.”

He smiles at that. “An eternity.”

For a moment he thinks she’s going to ask another question, but instead she grabs the remote from where he’d left it on the coffee table, and clicks the tv back on. “I wanna play again. I bet I can kick your ass at Cat Scratch Canyon.”

“You wish.” Jughead nearly wilts with relief. “And don’t say ‘ass.’”

Betty arrives home around noon on Saturday, looking worse for the wear after her night with Veronica. Jellybean is at a friend’s house for the afternoon, so she makes no effort to disguise the fact that she’s hungover.

“I feel like death,” she proclaims dramatically, falling onto the couch. “We’re so  _ old _ , Jug.”

He smiles, lifting her feet off the cushion so he can sit beside her, letting them rest in his lap. “Speak for yourself. I’m still in my twenties.”

Betty wiggles one of her feet in a half-hearted kick. “Barely.”

They watch an episode of  _ The Cubicle _ on Getflix, but instead of letting the next one autoplay and succumbing to a binge, Betty presses pause as the credits begin to roll. “I’m worried about Veronica.”

Jughead frowns, rubbing her foot absently with his thumb. “Why?”

With effort, Betty pulls herself into a half-upright position. “You know how she RSVP’d without a plus one? I asked her about it last night, and she got all weird and evasive.”

Jughead holds in a sigh; they’ve had this conversation before. “Yeah, because you’re judging her for not having a date.”

“I am not.” Betty wiggles her foot again. This time she succeeds in knocking his elbow. “You don’t know Veronica. She has never shown up to a formal event without a date in her life. She went to the governor’s inaugural ball  _ three days  _ after Nick moved out with some guy she found on Grind’em.”

“This is a step forward, then. She’s finally learning to be independent.” Jughead rubs her arch more firmly. “You should be glad she’s not bringing some rando to our wedding.”

“It’s not about independence for her. She’s always been independent.” Betty sighs. “I’m just worried because I think she’s seeing Nick again.”

Betty had filled him in on the long and sordid story of Veronica’s relationship with Nick St. Clair during their drive back from New York last year. Their tortured romance had blossomed at boarding school and concluded in a courtroom, with screaming fights, infidelity (hers), and a drug overdose (his) along the way. Even hearing the details secondhand, Jughead had never felt more grateful for a life lived amongst the ninety-nine percent.

“If she’s back with Nick again, you should be  _ really _ glad she’s not bringing a plus one.”

Betty pulls her feet out of his grasp. “Jughead, it’s not funny. He was emotionally abusive to her.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Chastened, he places a hand on her ankle. “Did you ask her if she was seeing him?”

“Not outright. I should have.” Betty buries her face in a throw pillow, mumbling against it, “I’m a shitty friend.”

“Betty, c’mere.” He wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her up against his side. “You are an amazing friend. These things are just tough to navigate.”

She makes a sound against his neck, but he can’t tell if it’s in agreement, or dismissal.

“Will it make you feel better if I tell you about how I’m a shitty brother?”

“No.” Betty pulls her head back, frowning up at him. “But you should still tell me.”

“Jelly asked about her parents’ wedding last night.”

Her hand finds his thigh, warm through the denim. “What did you say?”

“Mostly that I didn’t remember it,” he admits. “But it got me thinking that maybe this is dredging up a lot of emotions in her that we hadn’t even considered. We’re so focused on her feelings about  _ us  _ that we forgot she also has feelings about them.”

“God. Yeah.” Betty purses her lips. “Was she upset?”

“She didn’t seem like it. But, y’know. As she gets older, she gets better at hiding this stuff.”

She slides her hand across his stomach, hugging him around the waist. “I just want her to be happy. I just want everyone to be happy.”

“Yeah.” He rests his chin on the top of her head. “Me too.”

**one month out**

Switching on the oven light, Jughead crouches down to peer through the door. The chicken looks exactly the same as it did five minutes ago, and according to the recipe he’d googled, it’ll be another thirty minutes before he can even consider eating it.

He sighs. He’s starving. He should have listened to his gut and just bought the rotisserie chicken at the grocery store today, but somehow he’d gotten the idea in his head that Betty and Jellybean would be impressed if he roasted a whole chicken for dinner. (Jellybean, who would probably eat roadkill off of the sidewalk if you let her.)

There were a lot of things about being an adult that sucked – parking tickets, paying taxes, lower back pain – but if you asked Jughead, the worst were just those little moments when you realize you’ve made things more difficult for yourself for no reason at all.

He perks up a little at the sound of a key in the door. “Hello,” Betty calls.

“In the kitchen.”

She appears through the doorway, shrugging off her jacket. “It smells good in here.”

“Yeah. It’s self-imposed torture.” Jughead leans down to give her a kiss. “How was your day?”

“It was…strange.”

Before she can elaborate, Jellybean skids into the kitchen, sliding a little on the linoleum in her socked feet. “Hi! Betty, hi.”

Betty’s expression transforms, eyes bright, mouth pulled up into a smile. Despite her closer relationship with Jellybean, he knows it’s still her instinct to put on a happy face around kids. “Hi. How was your day?”

Jellybean grabs onto the back of one of the kitchen chairs, using it for balance as she slips her feet against the floor, running in place. She’s not usually so energetic before dinnertime; she must have snuck an extra cookie or two out of the pantry while Jughead was preoccupied with his unnecessarily complicated chicken.

“Good.”

When no further details come, Betty nods towards the clock on the wall. “It’s almost six. Isn’t that time for  _ Doctor Hoot _ ?”

Jellybean plants her feet on the ground with a gasp. “Yes! Yes, it’s time for  _ Doctor Hoot _ !” Without another word, she zooms past them into the living room, leaping onto the sofa. 

Meeting his eyes, Betty giggles. “Wow.”

“You are gonna see so much more of that, now you live here.” Jughead smiles, reaching out to rub her shoulder. “What happened today?”

Her face falls, and Betty makes a whining sound in her throat before she sighs. “I saw my parents.” She sets her purse on the kitchen table, unzipping the top. “They wanted to give me their wedding gift.”

Jughead frowns. “I thought the  _ wedding _ was their wedding gift.”

“So did I.” She pulls a piece of paper out of her wallet and hands it to him; it’s a check, folded in half. “But then they gave me this.”

Irritation prickles in his chest as he takes the check. Her mother was always doing this, going straight to Betty for decisions that should be made by the both of them, together.

“I wish they would have told both of us they – Betty.” His stomach drops when he sees the number written out on its face. “This is…we can’t accept this.”

“I know –”

“It’s fifty-thousand dollars.” Even saying it out loud feels surreal. Like he’s a character in a movie who just found the bag of money that will ultimately get him killed.

“I know.” Betty twists her hands together. “And if it was just us, I wouldn’t have even taken it. But we have to think about Jellybean.”

“Jellybean has everything she needs.”

“She doesn’t have a college fund.”

His face feels hot; he takes a step back, the check still clenched in his fist. “You aren’t seriously going to hold that over my head.”

Betty looks stricken. “Jug, no – I’m not  _ blaming  _ you. I know it’s been hard –”

“I can provide for my sister. We’re doing fine.”

“No one is debating that.” Her cheeks are flushed, tension rigid through the lines of her body. “I’m just saying, we need to think about her future, and our own kids’ future. This isn’t just about you and me.”

“Betty, this kind of money –” His hand is shaking, he realizes. He presses the check facedown onto the kitchen table between them. “This kind of money comes with strings attached.”

“They’re my  _ family _ , Jughead. Not the mafia.”

“Don’t tell me you believe for one second your mother won’t be breathing down our necks, telling us how to spend it.”

Betty scoffs. “I hate to break it to you, but she’s going to do that anyway.”

“Yeah, only this time she’ll have actual leverage because she  _ gave us the money _ .”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

Something inside him snaps. “I can’t have this conversation right now. I’m going for a walk.” Grabbing his jacket off the hook by the door, he shoves his feet into the first pair of shoes he can find – an old pair of sandals he only wears to take the trash out. “Don’t let the chicken burn.”

Halfway to Pickens Park, he realizes the damp, hot feeling on his cheeks means he’s crying.

He doesn’t know who he’s angriest at. Himself, for losing his temper and raising his voice with the woman he loves, the woman he’s committed his life to? The Coopers, for inserting themselves again and again into a relationship that isn’t theirs, insisting that they’re only trying to help? 

Is he angry with Betty? Betty, who falls for it every time, always believing – despite decades of evidence otherwise – that her parents are capable of better?

Maybe most of all, he’s angry at his father. FP, his namesake: the man who never met a responsibility he didn’t want to run from, until the day he finally did, and fucked it up anyway.

Sometimes he wonders if he’s more like him than he knows.

Jughead sits by the river, watching the sun set.

Part of him feels surprised –  _ relieved  _ – to see Betty is still there when he lets himself back into the apartment, though he knows she wouldn’t leave Jellybean alone without knowing when he’d be back. She spares him only a glance before turning her stony gaze back to the tv screen. The tip of her nose is pink, eyes puffy. She’s been crying, too.

“Betts –” he croaks.

“You should go check on Jellybean before you talk to me,” she says. “She locked me out of her room.”

Shit. Of course she heard them yelling. Of course she’d be upset.

He raps lightly on her bedroom door with his knuckles, leaning against the doorframe. “Jellybean, it’s me. Open up.”

There’s no answer, so he tries again. “Please? Jelly, c’mon.”

This time he hears the click of the lock turning, then the soft thud of hurried footsteps on the carpet. Jughead opens the door slowly.

He almost doesn’t see her at first. His sister is sitting on the floor on the far side of the room, in a narrow, cubby-like space between the bed and the bookcase against the wall, where she likes to snuggle up with her stuffed animals and read. The stuffed animals are piled up like pillows behind her, and Jellybean sits in the middle, her arms wrapped tight around her torso.

She’s clearly been crying, and more recently than Betty.

Jughead feels like he’s a thousand years old. “Jelly, I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have heard all that.”

“Are you –” She hiccups. “Getting a divorce?”

“No.  _ No _ . Absolutely not.” Moving around to her side of the bed, he sits down on the floor, resting his back against the foot of the bedframe. “Betty and I – we just had a fight. Grown-ups have fights sometimes.”

“You sounded mad.”

“We were mad. It doesn’t mean we’re getting a divorce. We love each other.”

“But my mom said she loved my dad.” Jellybean wipes uselessly at her cheeks. “Didn’t she?”

Jughead feels his own eyes well up again. “Jelly, I – I wish I could tell you why your mom did what she did. But I can’t. I can only promise you that I’ll never do that to you. I’m never leaving you. I’m never leaving Betty. You’re my family. I love you.”

She doesn’t say anything, but she nods.

“Can I give you a hug?”

When she nods again, he scoots over beside her, and wraps her in a bear hug. After a moment’s hesitation she hugs him back, pressing her wet face to his chest.

“I love you, too,” she mumbles. It isn’t something she says very often. He knows not to take it for granted.

After a moment he lets her go, ruffling a hand through her hair. “Did you eat dinner?”

“No.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, and get some food in you.”

Betty has already set the table for them, and when she sees them enter the kitchen she pulls the chicken out of the oven. It’s already been carved.

“I kept it warm,” she says. “The salad’s in the fridge.”

Jughead stops her with a gentle hand on her elbow. “Betts.”

When she gazes up at him, he’s not sure if he actually sees a flicker of forgiveness, or merely wants it so badly that he imagines it. “Eat your dinner,” she says. “I’ll be in our room.”

He knocks before he enters, hears her soft reply: “Come in.”

She’s changed into her pajamas already, though it’s only just past eight. There’s a book in her lap, but she takes the sleeve off every time she reads a hardback, so he doesn’t know what it is.

He shuts the door and stands with his back against it, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Betty, I’m sorry.”

She pats the comforter beside her. “C’mere.”

Jughead climbs up onto the bed, careful to leave her a few inches of space. “You didn’t deserve any of that. I shouldn’t have yelled. I shouldn’t have run away.” He swallows. “That wasn’t fair.”

Betty sighs, tracing her finger along the seam of the comforter between them. “I’m sorry, too. I could have gone about it in a better way.” She blinks up at him through her lashes. “I should have insisted they keep it until we could talk about it with them together. They shouldn’t…they knew what they were doing. It was disrespectful to you. And I knew it, too, but I just didn’t know what to do in the moment.”

“It’s okay.” He slides his arm around her shoulders, and she sags against him, pressing her nose into his sleeve. Pressing his cheek to the top of her head, Jughead clears his throat. “Can I tell you something?”

Her nose brushes against his shoulder as she nods. “Of course.”

“Back before my dad was in prison – this was like, a year before he got arrested – he started throwing cash around. Not fifty-thousand dollars of cash, but. A lot, for him. At first I thought he’d just got lucky at the racetrack or something.

“I think...it was so obvious what was going on. But I was in denial. And he was sober, he was taking care of Jellybean. He took me out to dinner a couple times.” He shakes his head. “I was fucking stupid.”

“You weren’t stupid.” Betty’s fingers cup his chin, feather-light. “You thought your dad was turning his life around.” 

“But if I’d just said something, right from the start – maybe he wouldn’t have gotten in so deep. Maybe he could’ve actually gone clean.” He sighs. “I’m not saying I regret how things turned out, taking care of Jellybean. But if I have a weird overreaction to sudden, giant sums of money…that’s probably why.”

Betty smiles a little, tucking her head against his shoulder. “I get it.”

“I know it’s not the same thing, but – where the hell did your parents  _ get  _ that kind of money?”

“Polly’s college fund, probably. She never used it. And they’re afraid if they give her any money she’ll hand it right over to whoever’s in charge of the Farm.” Betty snorts. “It’s the one thing we agree on.”

“Okay, but…” He hesitates. “Look. I’m not saying I want to run off and join a cult. But Polly clearly does whatever she wants, and they haven’t completely cut her out of the family. What are you afraid they’ll do if you start to push back?”

Betty’s fingers pause in their slow drift across the back of his hand. “I’m not afraid of repercussions, Jug.” She sighs. “I  _ know _ they’re controlling, and manipulative. But they love me, and they poured their whole lives into raising me and Polly, and she just...she doesn’t care. She’s selfish. She took everything they gave, and they never got an inch of it back.

“I know that doesn’t mean it all has to fall on me, but...it still feels that way. Maybe it’s not the healthiest place to be, but right now it’s where I’m at.”

Jughead fiddles with the edge of her shirtsleeve, nodding slowly. If there is one thing in this world that he understands, it’s obligation.

She straightens up, looking him in the eye. “I really am sorry for how I handled everything, but I still think we should take it.”

He squeezes his eyes shut. He hates it, absolutely hates it – but he knows she’s right. If it comes down to Jellybean’s education versus his own wounded pride, Jelly’s future wins out, every time.

“This weekend we’ll go back, and we’ll talk it through, and we’ll make it clear that if we accept their gift, that’s it. No conditions. No ‘advice.’” She squeezes his hand for emphasis.

“No  _ helpful hints  _ that there’s a house up for sale on Elm Street?”

Betty laughs, giving an exaggerated shudder. “Can you imagine?”

“I’ve had nightmares.”

“Although,” she says, sounding more serious, “we  _ could  _ put some of it towards a down payment.”

Running his fingers slowly up and down her arm, Jughead wrinkles his nose. “You think? You wanna buy a house?”

It’s not something he can really wrap his head around. None of the adults in Jughead’s life had ever owned property. “Too much of a hassle,” his mom had always claimed.

Looking back, he knows that it was more about a lack of means than a lack of desire. But all of the conversations he and Betty have had about their future living space have revolved around renting again; even with their finances combined, they’re not in a position to buy a house.

At least, they weren’t until now.

“Why do you think I left New York after college?”

“Let’s see. Your grandma got sick…your sister joined a cult…your parents begged you…”

“Cheap real estate, baby.” She pecks him on the cheek. “Let’s think about it, at least. It’s a good investment.”

“Investments, real estate.” He raises his eyebrows. “This is all sounding extremely adult. Remember, Betty, I’m only in my twenties.”

She rolls her eyes. “Sometimes I forget I bagged a younger man.”

Lacing their fingers together, Jughead smiles down at where their hands are joined in his lap. “Are we okay? I feel like we’re okay. But I don’t want to assume.”

“We’re okay.”

She tilts her head back, gazing up at him with a look that makes his heart flutter. It gives him the courage to say what he says next.

“Something you said earlier. When we were fighting.”

Betty scrunches up her face. “I don’t think you should hold me to any of that.”

“Well, you said – something about ‘our kids.’” He pauses, stroking his thumb over her wrist. Even in the moment, her words had struck him, cutting through the fog of his anger and shame. “Are you…feeling more inclined in that direction?”

She doesn’t answer him at first. “I don’t know,” she says eventually.

“Okay.” He tries to keep his tone light. “That’s fine.”

“It’s not –” She stops, takes a breath. “I do think about it. I just don’t know if I’m thinking about it because it’s what I really want, or if it’s because we’re married now and that’s what everyone thinks is supposed to happen next.”

“It’s okay. I don’t know, either. We’re not in a rush.”

“Well, we  _ kind  _ of are, as you keep reminding me, I’m ancient –”

“Stop,” he laughs, kissing the corner of her mouth. “You know I’m just kidding. Thirty isn’t old.”

Betty exhales a long breath. “My IUD expires in a year and a half. So maybe we think about it more seriously then.”

“That works for me. In the meantime…” He disentangles their fingers, sliding his hand over her hip and under her top. Her skin is so soft and warm and yielding. He’s so fucking  _ lucky. _ “We could give it a workout.”

Her face is incredulous. “Wait, did talking about my IUD turn you on?”

Jughead pauses. In all honesty, it’s the opposite that’s turning him on: the thought of Betty with a swollen stomach and heavy breasts, his baby inside of her. But given what she’s just said, he doesn’t know how hearing that would make her feel. He doesn’t know how admitting it out loud would make  _ him _ feel.

He settles on what he’s pretty sure is a safe answer. “Everything about you turns me on.”

“Nice save,” she giggles, letting him roll her onto her back.

They kiss, tugging at one another’s clothing, sighing and shifting beneath the bedsheets. Jughead drags his mouth away from her neck and cups her cheek, angling her face so she’ll meet his eyes with her own, heavy-lidded and dark.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Betty nips at his earlobe. “And I want to have crazy make-up sex with you.”

**the day before**

The day before the wedding, the out-of-town guests start to trickle in.

To his dismay, Betty is up and out of bed with the sunrise, fielding calls and driving around town to meet up with college friends and distant relatives she hasn’t seen in a decade. But for Jughead, there are only a handful of people coming to Riverdale whom he actually cares about: Archie, and his mother, Gladys.

Jughead picks Archie up from the train station in the morning, slinging an arm around his broad shoulders in a half-hug as he steps off the platform. “Hey, Arch. I’m so glad you made it.”

“Course I did. I’m the best man.” Archie gives him a guileless grin. “Even if you did refuse to let me throw you a bachelor party.”

Before he can spit out a witty retort, Jughead’s gaze catches on the child-sized object strapped to Archie’s back. “Oh, did you…bring your guitar?”

Archie was a talented guitarist, and a decent singer. But in Jughead’s closely-held yet rarely-expressed opinion, his style left something to be desired. Suffice it to say that the two of them hadn’t become friends because they’d bonded over similar tastes in music.

Archie whips his head around to one side, then the other, as though he’s trying to catch a glimpse of the instrument attached to his back. “Shit. That was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Oh.”

Just as Jughead is resigning himself to watching Betty walk down the aisle to the tune of  _ Hey There Delilah _ , Archie doubles over in laughter. “I’m totally kidding, Jug. This is just an old one I’m dropping off at my dad’s house.”

He grins, punching his oldest friend on the shoulder. “Fuck you.”

Gladys arrives after lunchtime.

“Hey, kid. Look at you.” She wraps him in a hug, ruffling a hand through his hair like he’s ten years old again. “All grown up. Getting  _ married _ tomorrow.”

It’s been over a year since he’s seen her in person, but little has changed. Same shaggy haircut she’s had since the late nineties, same tight, dark clothing, same sprinkling of stars tattooed along her temple. Only a few new creases at the corners of her eyes suggest she’s aged at all.

“Nice place.” She saunters past him into the living room, dropping her bag by the coffee table.

“You’ve been here before.”

“Not since you got a girlfriend.” Gladys points to the vase of flowers in the center of the kitchen table. “D on’t tell me that wasn’t Betty’s doing.”

“She’s spruced things up a little,” he admits. “D’you want a glass of water, or anything?”

“Sure.”

When he hands her the glass, rather than thank him, she says, “Talked to your dad lately?”

Jughead’s parents don’t talk. He knows this is her way of checking up on him -- the offhanded question posed once or twice a year, paired with an eyeroll to downplay her interest in the answer. 

“He’s doing alright. We went to visit him last week. We dressed up a little, Jelly wore her bridesmaid dress.” 

That had always been the plan, since FP wouldn’t be able to attend the wedding. He’d gone teary-eyed and quiet at the sight of Jughead in a tie and Jellybean in her dress, a moment that had made Jughead so deeply uncomfortable that Betty had to dig her fingernails into his hand just so he didn’t start to pace around the room. 

Gladys’ mouth curls up at the side. “I bet she looked sweet.”

Jughead nods, flashing her a quick smile before turning his gaze back towards the kitchen. He still remembers what she’d said when he’d called her with the news about FP’s arrest, and his subsequent assumption of guardianship:  _ Oh, Jug. This isn’t what I wanted for you. _

But she’d never offered to help. It wasn’t what she wanted for herself, either. 

Out of nowhere, Gladys ruffles his hair. “Remember that old beanie you always used to wear?”

Jughead bats her hand away, wondering where she’s going with this. It’s a familiar, but not entirely pleasant feeling. “Yeah, of course. I practically bathed with it.”

“Still got it?

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “I threw it away years ago.”

“You told me once you were going to wear that hat until the day you died.” She smiles. “And now you don’t even know where it is.”

With a shrug, Jughead pulls his phone out of his pocket. He needs to text Betty so she can swing back to the apartment before the rehearsal dinner, and finally meet his mom in person. “I said a lot of things when I was eight. I said glue tasted good. Is there a point to this story?”

“I’m just feeling nostalgic.” Gladys sweeps her gaze around the apartment. “So where is Betty?”

“She is on…her…way,” he says, nodding as an incoming text confirms it.

“And your young charge?”

“Jellybean is at her friend Mia’s house today. I have to pick her up at four-thirty.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”

“Yeah.” As he says it, he realizes it’s…true. And mundane as it is, in a weird way, it also feels sort of monumental. “I do.”

The rehearsal itself goes smoothly – the wedding party is so small there really isn’t much to coordinate – and the dinner does, too. Hal and Gladys and Veronica and Archie give toasts; they’re all surprisingly sweet, and Veronica’s is only a little bit inappropriate. Betty barely lets go of his hand underneath the table throughout the entire meal.

After dinner the guests drink and mingle. Jughead gets caught up in a debate with Polly over vaccines for far longer than he intends (he’s decidedly pro), but when she wanders away to fetch another glass of wine, he realizes it’s been a while since he’s seen his soon-to-be (but-already-is) wife. He’s a little embarrassed to admit it, but after dealing with their various friends and relations all day, he misses her.

He checks to see that Jellybean is doing okay – she’s sitting at the end of the table, enraptured by her GameGuy – and then one of the servers points him to a set of stairs in the back corner of the room.

He finds Betty at the top, leaning against the wall next to a door labeled “Staff Only.”

“Hey.” Jughead kisses her cheek. “What are you doing up here?”

“I have to pee, and there was a long line for the bathroom downstairs, so they told me I could use the staff restroom up here.” Betty huffs in frustration. “But I’ve been waiting here for like, ten minutes.”

“Did you knock?”

“No, but I can tell there’s someone –”

Jughead knocks on the door. It must have startled whoever was in there, because there’s a series of thuds, and a loud, clear “ _ Fuck _ .”

Betty stifles a laugh with her hand. “Um – maybe we should go back down –”

But the door opens before either of them can move, revealing Archie and Veronica on the other side.

Veronica freezes in the doorway. “Oh.” Her hand touches the pearl necklace at her throat, the only sign that she’s been caught off-guard. “Hello.”

Archie appears the polar opposite of Veronica’s cool collectedness, fidgeting beside her as his face turns beet red. “Hey! Jughead. Betty. Great party.”

Jughead’s grin is so wide he thinks he might have permanent stretch marks on his cheeks. “Hey guys. Whatcha doin’ in there?”

Betty, on the other hand, seems scandalized. “Veronica! It’s not even eight o’clock.”

Still smiling, Jughead shakes his head. “How dare you. There are children present.”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “It’s not what you think.”

Jughead points towards Archie’s belt buckle. “His fly is down. It’s exactly what we think.”

Archie quickly shuffles to the side to zip it up. “No, she means – this isn’t, like, a hookup. We’re dating.”

Betty’s mouth drops open. “You’re…”

“Since when?” Jughead demands. “Not since that night we all went out drinking together.”

“ _ Veronica _ ,” Betty hisses. “He threw up on your Louboutins.”

“And then he offered to buy me a new pair, like the gentleman he is.” Veronica gives Archie a fond pat on the arm.

“Until I realized they cost $3,000,” he adds sheepishly.

“But no, it hasn’t been going on that long,” Veronica says. “We reconnected when I saw him playing in the band at a gala event my father was co-hosting. It’s been what, four months now? Is that right, hon?”

“That’s right.” Archie presses a kiss to her upturned cheek. Jughead has to admit: it’s actually sort of sweet. The whole wedding thing must be making him soft.

Betty folds her arms across her chest, the high drama unfolding before them having eliminated any urgency for her to use the restroom. “That’s before you came to visit. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was  _ going _ to. And then I saw how you two were getting off on the whole secret marriage thing…” Veronica shrugs. “I thought it would be more fun to sneak around.”

“It’s  _ really _ fun.” Archie loops an arm around her waist. “Although there’s not as much sneaking around to do as you’d think, since you guys live upstate.”

“That’s not entirely true. Remember that time when Betty FaceTimed me, and we were in the bath together –”

“Okay. We’ve heard enough.” Jughead claps his hands together. “Betty has to pee and I have to…pour bleach into my ears. Let’s go.”

Halfway down the stairs, Archie stops short. “Wait. What  _ secret marriage  _ thing?”

“I still can’t believe Veronica lied to me for the last four months.”

Jughead grins, grateful Betty’s not there to see it, even though he thinks it’s silly to spend the night before your wedding apart even if you  _ hadn’t  _ already eloped.

“Betts, you were fully prepared to lie your ass off for just as long. She just called you on it first.”

Betty grumbles into the phone. “I guess I should just be glad she’s not back with Nick after all.”

Jughead rolls onto his side, tucking his pillow beneath his cheek. “Hey, what does Veronica do, anyway?”

“Like, for work?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know. Something business-y for her dad. She says it’s boring. Why?”

“Well…” He hesitates.

“What? Tell me.”

“Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Okay, so Archie was telling me how she’s really into like, wearing different wigs and stuff. And changing her clothes a lot. Even when they’re out in public.”

“Ew, Jug,” Betty complains. “I don’t want to know about their sex life.”

“Neither do I! But it got me thinking…you know how I made that joke about the CIA way back when…”

Despite her promise, there’s a stifled laugh on Betty’s end. “Jughead. Come on.”

“You said you wouldn’t laugh! I’m just saying –”

“Veronica is not a spy. That’s crazy.”

“Okay, but, counterpoint: what if she is.”

“You need to go to sleep.”

“You’re gonna be thinking about this all night now. I know you.”

“No I’m not, because  _ I’m  _ not a conspiracy theorist.”

“Well, if I’m a conspiracy theorist, at least I’m your conspiracy theorist.”

He can hear the smile in her voice when she says, “Goodnight, Juggie. I can’t wait to marry you again.”

“Love you, too, Betts.”

**the morning after**

Jughead wakes up fully nude in an unfamiliar bed. His mouth is dry. His head aches. He must have slept weird on his left shoulder, because it twinges with pain as he rolls onto his side to check the time on the alarm clock.

But despite it all, he’s never felt better, because Betty is sleeping soundly beside him.

Her wedding dress lays discarded on the floor, a pool of cream fabric stark against the dark, ivy-patterned carpet. Some of his memories from the night before are hazy, laughter and music and lights all bleeding together, but he remembers so clearly how his fingers had fumbled with the little buttons running down her back, desperate to feel her skin against his.

Her face is tilted towards his on the pillow, mouth slightly open, lips still swollen from the night before.

He’s already aching for her – morning wood is what it is – but he lets her sleep, staring up at the ceiling as he replays it in his head instead. 

When he’d finally finished with the buttons, he pulled the bodice of her dress down around her waist, unsnapping the band of her bra to let it fall to the floor. His hands had slid up to cup her breasts as he sucked a mark into the back of her neck, pressing his hips up against her ass as she moaned.

Their actual first night together as husband and wife had been wonderful: wandering hands and soft sighs, tempered groans and muffled laughter, limbs tangled together beneath the sheets of their own bed. But they hadn’t been alone in the apartment. Betty had to get up and go to work the next morning. They couldn’t _completely_ let go.

For their “official” wedding night, they’d been gifted a suite at the Five Seasons, where they could make all the noise they liked.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he’d murmured, dragging his lips over her shoulder. “Are you wet for me?”

Betty hadn’t answered, just guided his hand beneath the frothy layers of her skirt to the heat between her legs. He’d laid her down on the bed, pulling her hips right up to the edge, and fucked into her like that, the folds of her dress still gathered around her waist as her legs wrapped around him.

After, she shimmied out of the dress, pulled him down and straddled his hips, rode him until her tight, wet heat made him dizzy.

He doesn’t even really register that he’s stroking himself until her hand joins his, startling him out of his daydream. Betty bites her pretty, pouty lower lip, looking at him with sooty bedroom eyes. “Are you starting without me?”

Jughead rolls onto his side and tangles his free hand in her hair, pulling her in for a long, thorough kiss. When he pulls away, they’re both breathless.

“Never.”

Fresh from the shower and wrapped in a towel, Betty studies her reflection, running her index finger along her collarbone. “Do you think people will buy it if I say this is a bug bite?”

Jughead peers at the red mark on her skin. “No.”

“Ugh.”

With a little groan, he pulls her back against him, one hand slipping under her towel to touch her breast. Her nipple pebbles beneath his fingers, and he feels himself start to stiffen beneath his own towel. “You have to stop being so sexy, or we’re never going to get out of this room.”

“Jug, stop,” she whines, but the way she melts into him belies her words. “We have to go.”

He snakes his other hand up under the edge of the towel, fingers teasing between her legs as she shifts slightly, parting her thighs to make room. He buries his grin against her shoulder, mouthing against her skin, using his teeth. “I want you so bad right now. I can’t help it.”

He hadn’t thought that the wedding would change things. They’ve been married for months. And maybe he was right, maybe it didn’t  _ change  _ anything between them, but ever since he kissed her on the altar yesterday he’s felt this new energy buzzing beneath his skin, sparking into pleasure every time they touch.

He pushes himself into her from behind, fucking her against the bathroom counter, her palm pressed flat against the mirror.

Somehow, they still make it to brunch on time.

(Even so, they’re the last ones there.)

“Good morning, newlyweds!” Veronica raises her mimosa, and the table does a round of cheers, glasses clinking. “How are we feeling?”

“Fantastic.” Jughead stretches his arm out to rest across the back of Betty’s chair.

“Good, but exhausted,” Betty clarifies.

The meal is uneventful, mostly idle chit chat with some gossip sprinkled in that Jughead and Betty had missed in the whirlwind of congratulations and dancing and demands for a kiss.

Jellybean giggles through a mouthful of waffles. “I’m glad I don’t have to keep your secret anymore!”

The table falls silent, and she shrinks back in her seat, looking around with wide eyes. “What? Was I not supposed to say that?”

Jughead squeezes her shoulder. “Yeah, not exactly, kiddo.”

Misty-eyed, Alice clutches her husband’s arm. “Oh, Elizabeth. Are we finally going to be grandparents?”

Betty rolls her eyes. “Mom, you just saw me drink, like,  _ eight  _ glasses of champagne last night.”

Jughead takes her hand under the table, rubbing his thumb over her palm in what he hopes is a soothing motion. “Betty and I got legally married back in February at the courthouse. We didn’t want to wait anymore, and we thought this way we could fully enjoy the wedding itself without as much of the stress.” He pauses, making eye contact with both of Betty’s parents. “I hope you’ll understand.”

Alice places her napkin on the table, stands up, and walks away.

“I’m not going after her,” Betty tells her father pointedly. “This is my wedding brunch. I’m stuffing my face with eggs benedict and then going home to nap.”

Hal exhales a deep, full-body sigh, and then gets up to follow his wife.

Watching them go, Polly huffs. “Way to go, Betty. At least I gave them a heads up about  _ my  _ surprise wedding.”

“Good for you, kids,” Gladys says, raising her coffee cup in cheers. “FP and I eloped, and – well, it wasn’t the best decision I ever made. But I’m glad I didn’t spend ten thousand dollars on it.”

“I, for one, am shocked.” Veronica takes a prim sip of her cocktail.

Archie frowns. “But Ronnie, you said –  _ ow _ .”

Jellybean looks upset, her half-eaten waffles growing cold on her plate. “Did I do something wrong?”

_ No,  _ Jughead thinks,  _ I did, when I asked a nine-year-old child to keep a sensitive secret indefinitely for the rest of her life _ .

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he assures her. “They just need some time to think about it.”

“We’re so happy you were here with us for  _ both  _ of our weddings, Jelly,” Betty adds earnestly, leaning around Jughead to give her a smile.

Eventually the Coopers return. Alice eats the rest of her yogurt bowl in silence, her face pinched and tight. She leaves while Hal and Veronica fight over the check, telling him she’ll wait in the car.

“She’ll get over it,” Hal tells Betty, giving his daughter a hug, shaking Jughead’s hand. “Congratulations.”

It’s not until after they’ve left that Jellybean realizes she’s forgotten her GameGuy in the back of the Coopers’ station wagon. “I was about to capture a unicorn Wokemon,” she moans.

“I’m sure the Wokemon’s not going anywhere in its weakened state.” Jughead gives her a gentle push between the shoulders, nudging her out the door. Beside him, Betty takes his hand, leaning her head against his shoulder.

It’s a cloudy day, with a bit of a breeze, but Jughead feels nothing but a steady, grounded warmth as they leave the restaurant together.

“C’mon,” he says. “Let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this fic in February 2020, and it remained 95% finished until a few days ago. sorry it took me so long, lol
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this!!! i love this little AU and am very open to writing more in it. if there are things you'd like to see, feel free to drop a suggestion in the comments!


End file.
